Chapter Three
Sweet Dreams
T
hat night, I found myself unable to fall asleep. Growing restless, I tossed and turned, sighing and grunting as I struggled to find a comfortable position. Maybe it was the new house or the strange meeting with Maylee and her brother. Regardless, I was still laying with my eyes glued to my bedroom ceiling at three in the morning.
The witching hour had always fascinated me. It seemed that everything paranormal occurred at night, when people were the most unsuspecting.
Thinking these thoughts were probably also what kept me awake, but who knew.
The silver moonlight filtered in through my bedroom window and with it came shadows snaking out across the ceiling, like black tentacles.
I watched in a morbid fascination as the figures slithered above me. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes away from them, like they were calling out to me like a siren in the night.
They seemed to grow larger and for a moment, I almost felt like they were real-- living Demons hovering just out of my reach.
Lifting my hand, I slowly extended my arm in an attempt to touch them. Just as I felt as though I could grasp one of them, a loud sound banged up against my window.
Gasping, I shot up in bed, looking for the source of the noise.
As I sat up, the shadows I had been so engrossed in, disappeared, leaving me only with the twinkling light from the stars outside.
Catching my breath, I glanced around my room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Packing boxes were still stacked high in the corners and clothes lay scattered on my bedroom floor. My eyes traveled to the window where a ping smacked up against the glass. A figure darkened my window, causing me to stifle a scream.
Another sound echoed from my window and this time, I leapt from my bed to check it out.
Call me crazy, but in my family, when you heard a sound, you investigated. As I padded to the window, I spotted a tree branch scraping against my window. That would have made a noise, but not the bang I had heard.
Not sure what to do, I leaned into the window, placing my hands on the window panes. My breaths fogged up the window. I used my hand to clear away the smudges, and was greeted by murky clouds of darkness that seemed to be attempting to cover up the silver light of the moon. As I stared at the strange night sky, a movement on the ground caught my attention.
Someone was walking past my driveway.
Opening the window, I felt the heavy heat on my face. It almost sucked the air right out of my lungs. Peering into the night, I watched as the hooded figure sauntered away, but as I strained for a closer look, I almost screamed when I realized it wasn’t just anyone.
That was Ace.
The next morning, I was groggy as I slipped into the kitchen. The smell of hazelnut coffee filled my nose and I smiled to myself. Thankfully, my mom and I shared a love for coffee and it was always brewing around our house.
Grabbing a coffee mug out of one of the boxes, I poured myself a cup. We may not have unpacked dishes or clothes yet, but we had our coffee bar set up.
“Didn’t sleep well?” my mom asked, as she sat down at the kitchen table. She had her laptop set up and was well underway on her third cup of coffee. “Any more sightings?” she asked, alluding to the shadows.
As a freelance writer, she could write from anywhere, but her job never seemed to end.
I poured some creamer into my cup as I gave her a glare. “Nope, just couldn't seem to rest,” I said, sighing. “What are you working on now?” I asked, sitting down next to her.
Her fingers were flying across the keys and I giggled watching her work.
“My editor thought it would be neat for me to do a story on Jessamine County. Since we have moved here and I have ties here, it would make a good showcase for a series we are starting on small towns across America,” she said, her eyes never leaving the small screen.
When my mom applied for the job working at the Jessamine Journal, we all knew it was a long shot for her to get the job. The Jessamine Journal was a small newspaper and magazine company and there wasn’t a huge demand for more employees. However, my mom was given a position working on articles that would be featured in their monthly magazine.
Sipping the golden liquid, I savored the taste and hoped the caffeine would kick in fast.
“So, I met someone yesterday,” I stated. I had decided to bring up Maylee to my mom. Like her, we both had not been the most social girls in school. Sure, I had a couple of friends back in Salem, but for the most part, I had kept to myself. I always feared what people would think if they came to my house and my mom was working with one of the Ghosts.
Suddenly, my mom stopped typing and she looked up at me in bewilderment. “That’s great, Lizzie,” she gushed. “Where did you meet this person?”
“Her name is Maylee and we met while I went for a walk yesterday evening. Her brother drove by, too. He seems like a jerk, but she’s really nice,” I remarked.
Smiling, my mom took my hand in hers and squeezed. “That is really great to hear. I think once you make some friends and get to know this town, you will enjoy being here. Look, Lizzie, I know how difficult it can be to move across the country. Your grandparents did the same to me, and it was the best decision they ever made.”
Her words struck me as I sat there. I knew why my grandparents had moved-- my grandfather had been relocated for a new job. But my parents could work from anywhere in the world they wanted. So why move?
“Mom, when are you going to tell me the truth about why we moved here?” I asked.
“I already told you. Your great Aunt Morgan left us this farm. It was a great gift,” mom began.
Waving my hands in the air, I cut her off mid-sentence. “No, mom. I want the truth. You could have kept this farm for us to visit. We had a home in Salem. Why here? Why Jessamine County?” I asked.
I could hear the pleading in my voice and I hated that I was begging for information. My mom was the queen of secrets and only relaying bits and pieces of information. I couldn’t blame her-- having to hide your true identity to the outside world would cause you to be blind to honesty and details.
Sighing, my mom frowned and I could see how difficult this was for her. “Lizzie, you are so much like me, at times it is like looking into a mirror. In time, you will understand why we are here. For now, just try and make the best out of the situation,” she said, before turning back to her work.
Taking her bait, I asked, “Mom, why are we really here?”
Smiling, mom never looked my way, but I could tell there was so much hidden behind the curve of her lips. My mom had secrets, and right now, she was hiding something from me. Clearing her throat, her fingers typed heavily on her laptop.
That was her signal that the conversation was over. Huffing, I made my way back to the coffee maker and refilled my mug. If I was going to make it through today without losing my mind, I would need caffeine.
By lunch, I hadn’t seen or heard from Maylee. Why we hadn’t thought to exchange phone numbers, I had no clue. I was sitting on the large, wrap-around porch watching the wind blow through the trees, as my dad left to go to Wal-Mart.
I was bored out of my mind. I had checked on my social media pages and discovered that the world back in Salem was still going without me.
I was about to head back inside to take a much needed afternoon nap, when I heard the familiar sound of a car engine speeding down the road.